


Pledged

by Vesania94



Series: Lady Hunter: The Stories of Grace Trevelyan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ceremony, F/M, Mage-Hunter, Self-Harm, ritual self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesania94/pseuds/Vesania94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace and Marc are bound as Hunter and Handler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pledged

“Lady of the Sacred Flame, I pledge myself to you in your service, a Sister amongst Brothers, the blade of the sword of your justice.” She breathed in deeply, exhaling with a shaking rattle, the words memorized like her own name. “I shall stand before the wicked, I shall restore your peace, and I will bring your light to the dark shadows of the world where the rejects of your Maker’s creation lie in ruin.”

The Chantry was dead silent as she kneeled in front of the statue of Andraste, the dagger in her hand glinting in the light of thousands of candles. She could feel Marc standing behind her, his own dagger clasped in his shaking hand. She resisted the urge to put her free hand into his, to let him know that she was fine with this. This was what she wanted.

“For though I walk in these dark places, He shall be my guide.”

She raised the dagger to her neck, and she could hear her mother’s stiffled gasp of shock as she ran the blade through the long braid at her back, shearing her hair off at the shoulder. It hit the ground with a dull thump that echoed through the room.

“Duty, confirmed by sacrifice of the body. Faith, by sacrifice of the heart.”

The scar on her neck from her final Harrowing was now plainly visible, still bright and angry, a deep pink in contrast to her pale skin and the white dress she had been given to wear.

“Hunter, face your Handler and take your vows to each other.”

Grace turned to face Marc, his grey eyes shifting nervously from her outstretched hand to the dagger in his. He took it carefully, her fingers looking impossibly fragile and delicate against the worn callouses of his palms. His voice shook as he started the vows they had practiced together.

“As the Maker is my witness, I, Marc Damien Garren, pledge myself in service to the Lady Hunter Grace Trevelyan. As she follows her duties, so I will follow her to the ends of the world. This is my pledge, and my honor,” Marc whispered, giving her hand a small squeeze.

“I, Lady Hunter Grace Anne Fortunata Serena Trevelyan, pledged in service to the Chantry, now tie myself to the Templar, Ser Marc Damien Garren. Through shadows and trials I will lead you, but I will never leave your side. I sign this pledge in blood.”

They placed the daggers on each other’s palms, dragging the tips across the surface, splitting the skin. The Chantry sister pressed their palms together, the only evidence of their wounds the almost undetectable sound of blood splashing on the floor.

“Bound by blood, and by the power of the Maker, you have made these vows. Welcome, my friends, to the Order of Hunters.”

The applause was deafening, her mother crying with pride, her father merely nodding in approval. But it was enough. Grace let a trickle of magic flash through her hand, sealing the cuts on their palms. They linked arms, and walked slowly down the center aisle, not unlike the chapel wedding her mother had once dreamed about her having.

“We did it!” Marc breathed as they exited the candle lit room, gripping her hand tightly.

“You nearly fainted like a delicate noble lady, Marc!” Grace laughed, hugging him tightly. “I was worried I’d have to pick you up off the floor!”

He laughed with her and swept her off of her feet, spinning her around in a circle. “I’m just glad I’m not the one picking you up off the ground. In pieces. I was worried about you.”

“Shhh, don’t worry about it! I’m fine, and put me down! We’re not done yet,” Grace hissed as they approached the Knight-Commander’s office. Marc laughed and put her down with a final spin. He knocked twice, and the door swung open. Knight-Commander Andrews smiled at them proudly.

“Ah good. You two did well. Now, to complete the ceremony.” He led them over to a small hinged box, and he opened it revealing a small glowing vial strung on a tiny golden chain, nestled in white silk. “Hunter Andraste, if you would like to do the honors?”

Grace picked the tiny vial up, lifting it over Marc’s head. He shifted it to a comfortable position, her arms still wrapped around his shoulders.

“Track me down, Handler?” she whispered, smiling slightly to herself.

“Always, my Lady Hunter,” he laughed, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “Forever and always.”


End file.
